Don’t Forget My Children

Little children who can’t pronounce war yet;
children who shouldn’t know what it is.
Running, their bodies plagued with beads of sweat,
with kwashiorkor and tuberculosis.

“Uncle, where is mama? Where is papa?”
Parents’ bodies are lifeless on the farms.
“Mama, why did you leave me here with master?”
Babies are starving, dying in their own arms.

Don’t try to make me shut my mouth
when I get possessed by pain and cry.
  
But if we return to the past, we’re going south.
Can brothers forgive other brothers if they try?

Take flowers to the sea for my children,
who could’ve been all they wanted to be.
At least, admit it was not okay for grown men
to snatch my children away from me.

hunger

Biafran War (6 July 1967 – 15 January 1970)
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Greed-White-Greed

unnamed

Green-White-Green.
The ‘green’ dey plenty
but the ‘white’ no reach,
upon say we dey preach.

Daddy is the first “green”,
mummy is the second,
and the “white” is their son- Junior;
all his decisions are made for him.

His birth name is Purity,
but they barely call him that,
and his opinions almost never matter.
“Junior, sit down there.”
“Junior, excuse us;
go out to play with your friends.”
“Junior, the adults are talking;
you ought to walk away.”
“Junior, cover your ears.”

We say “the young shall grow”, abi?
It’s one of our favourite quotes.
Our hope is that one day,
Junior will grow to be a strong man.
A pure-in-heart woman will marry him.
They’ll give birth to a gorgeous daughter;
she’ll be very “green”,
and she’ll grow to be big and strong.
Our new flag will be “white-green-white”.

Green wouldn’t need to cover her ears;
there would be no need to.
We would have a new country;
our leaders would do what they should do.

“White-Green-White.
Na only ‘white’ we dey see,
but the ‘green’ no reach,
sake of say we no rich.”

You can agree that
the above won’t happen,
and you can disagree,
but wetin be the point of the wealth,
if na only few people rich.
Wetin be the point of the wealth
if they no dey share the money-
if they no let the money reach?


If we do am make the money reach everybody, nobody go rich, but you know as e dey go now. Everybody wan rich.

Socialism means- nobody gets rich, and we’re all equal, wealth-wise. This can’t work in reality. Capitalism means- some people get rich, but some people stay poor.

Either way, some people are not going to be rich.

Does nihilism come with socialism? You know you can’t be richer than you are anyway, so what is the point of aspiring to achieve anything if you can’t get the ultimate reward (whether or not it’s gotten at the expense of others)- wealth?

Everything is designed to be fucked up in one way and another.

The Free Wear the Chains Now.

It’s one thing to be Black and proud.
It’s another, to be an African,
or with African roots, and proud.

How can it be, that children of the same parents don’t regard one another as siblings, as brothers and sisters?

11-Faces-3-African-Art-Oil-on-Canvas_Udubrae-Art-Galleries_AfriMod

“Faces”: Abstract African Art by Nigerian Artist, Ezekiel Udubrae.


Romanticized Queen Africa Has the Strength of a Thousand Men. She Has Large, Perky Breasts and Big, Round Buttocks:
Many of the Black people of America are so proud of their “Ancient-Egypt roots”. Their ancestors spoke Yoruba, and Igbo, and Twi, and Hausa, and Tiv, and Qanawuri, and Etuno, before heavy chains were tied around their hands and feet. The sad truth is these ancestors were not all titled king and queens, but Móremí’s sons and Idia’s daughters would prefer to claim that they were directly breastfed by Nefertiti.

An Egyptian lady told me she’s from the Middle East, not from Africa. You’d expect that if anyone was to be proud of Africa, it’d be her.

The Chained were set ‘free’ [whether or not they are truly free]. The Free wear the chains now.

Rain

Nobody noticed, when the oceans fed
water to the thirsty clouds.
We only know that when they were satisfied,
they gave water back to the oceans,
to our thirsty crops and soil,
to our bowls and buckets,
and to our playful children,
before our very eyes.

Our air was cleaner,
our love-making was sweeter,
and our sleep was deeper,
because the sky was given water.


 

A lot of people have pulled strings to take enslaved Nigerians and other Africans [it breaks my heart; it’s 2017 and this is still happening] in Libya back home. Not all of them have publicized the things they’ve done and the amounts they’ve given. Thank you very much. You’re beautiful people with good hearts. You’re Oceans.

I tried to write something about looking for greener grass in other regions/countries [like people have done for centuries irrespective of their race- your ancestors, my ancestors] and finding rusted chains instead, but I couldn’t. I slept off 5 minutes after because my heart was heavy.

I hope they’ll make good use of their freedom now that they have it [the ones that are free now, at least], get the psychological and financial help they need to bring their dreams/goals back to life, and rain for us. Most of them are in their youth, they are educated, and they have bright ideas; they’re all valuable human resources. The governments have a lot to do to ensure that they gain or regain their stability. If they take them home and withdraw without providing adequate assistance, there’ll be problems. [Some of them were infected with HIV.]